


The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrook

by sqbr



Category: Glitch (Video Game)
Genre: Challenge Response, Fanfiction, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/pseuds/sqbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Operation Prufrock Sandbox challenge to write a piece of Glitch themed poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrook

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't quite manage the whole thing. I'm sure my Lit teacher would be horrified that I even tried :)

Let us go then, you and I,  
When the floating islands hang against the sky  
Like a piggy’s meat laid out upon a table;  
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,  
The muttering retreats  
Of restless days in small cheap treehouses  
In free outfits with ugly shirts and trousers:  
Streets that follow like a frivolous argument  
Of innocuous intent  
To lead you to an overwhelming question…  
Oh, don’t ask the Giant’s will  
Let us go and learn a new skill.

At the shrine the glitches jump and squee  
Talking of Humbaba and Tii  

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the stalagmites,   
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the stalactites   
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,   
Lingered upon the pools that stand in fens,   
Let fall upon its back the powder-falls from shrines,  
 Slipped by the subway, made a sudden leap,   
And seeing that it was a soft Zilletober night,   
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.  

And indeed there will be time   
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,   
Rubbing its back upon the stalagmites;   
There will be time, there will be time   
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;   
There will be time to splank and then to hug,   
And time for all the works and days of hands   
That lift and drop a question in your mug;   
Time for you and time for me,   
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,   
And for a hundred visions and revisions,   
Before the taking of a bubble tea.

  At the shrine the glitches jump and squee   
Talking of Humbaba and Tii. 


End file.
